Dream of the Sleepless
by Prank to the Man
Summary: It was clear to me then what had to be done, but I didn't want to accept it. I refused to. I still refuse to. I'll never forget that dream. The dream of the sleepless... [One Shot]


-O-

Dream of the Sleepless

-O-

There I lay, under the imaginary bedcovers of dreamland, being as strong as I could be at the moment. It was hard, though. At this very second, the devil child Samara was flaunting my body around as her own, doing as she wished. She had already used it to kill two people, the woman in the hospital and then Rachel's boss, Max. I'm not quite sure how I myself managed to hold back the tears. My own mother was in danger and there was nothing I could do about it.

I often wondered what the girl wanted, what she got from the killing. What had it served to her? Everybody that had initially caused her torment had been taken care of, yet she insists on continuing her rampage. She wouldn't stop.

Before I could ponder the situation further, I heard the creaking of a door. I turned my weakened body over to the other side to see the door shut itself swiftly, and feel a gust of wind flow through me, chilling my frail, eight-year-old body beyond measures of comprehension. I curled up in the covers in a fruitless effort to hope that she wouldn't see me; who else could it be? I shut my eyes tight in a childish act of self defense, but I could feel her. I could feel her staring down at me. She was right next to me, I knew it. I could feel a cold sensation near my forehead as her hand lifted, lowering itself to my forehead

But I felt something totally different. There was no pain, no burning, but a slight warmth mixed in with the cold touch, however little it was. My eyes slowly opened, and I came face to face with her, in her shredded, blood stained dress and topped with a thick mop of black hair in front of her face. The first thing I noticed was her skin. It wasn't moldy, or disfigured, or anything abnormal. It was actually quite silky, dare I say angelic in nature. Perhaps it was just the glow of the makeshift dreamland we were in, or perhaps it was something else. I may never be sure, and I'm not sure if I want to be.

She brought up her other hand and brushed her hair back, causing me to let out a little gasp, expecting to see her for what she truly was. But the deafening screech of the ring of light never came, nor did the depressing barrage of deadly pictures. What I saw was her face. Her true face. Her human face.

I looked up at her eye to eye, bewilderment filling my tiny mind. She bore no notable expression in her brown eyes, but I could of sworn I saw a light smile illuminate from her face that day. I still believe that to this day. She brushed my hair back with her hand lightly, caressing my skin. I continued to glance up at her, before he finally broke the silence.

"We never sleep"

I looked up at her even more puzzled. Hesitantly, I asked, "We?"

Her eyes shut and she sighed, her hand halting its rather soothing movement, strangely to my displeasure. "Yes. We"

Feeling backed into a corner laying down in bed with this murderer not even a foot away from me, I sat up, her hand offering no objection to the sudden movement. I sat on the edge of the small bed, the covers dangling over my legs. "What do you mean?"

She looked at me with a tinge of sadness in her face. "My other" I tilted my head in wonder. She continued. "She won't let herself sleep. She won't let them live"

I looked away from her for a minute, absorbing what she was saying to me. "Do _you _want to let them live?"

She didn't say anything for a while. After a moment of silence, she looked down shamefully. "Yes"

"T-then you don't want to hurt people?" I stuttered.

"But I do, and I'm sorry. It won't stop"

This wasn't getting me anywhere. She wasn't making any sense. "What won't stop?"

"My other"

Her voice seemed rather calm, all things considered. Then again, she'd been through so much in her life, her afterlife and beyond, I really shouldn't of been so surprised. I needed to know what was going on, how to stop it. And deep down, I wouldn't admit it then, but I had felt a deep concern for this girl for one reason or another. Craving the answers to both of our suffering, I asked, "Why does your other kill?"

She looked straight at me and replied, "She is my anger. She can't stop. I can stop it, but she won't let me"

Things were becoming to become clearer. "She's your anger?" I managed to pop out.

"Yes. She's everything I've been through. She's me"

Neverrmind on the 'clear' thing. "She's you?"

"Yes. She's me. She is my anger. It won't stop"

Suddenly, things were beginning to click. "So, she's your anger?"

"Yes"

"And she's you?"

"Yes"

Things were finally beginning to make sense to me. To see if my theory was correct, I asked one more question. "If you never sleep, how are you in my dream?"

"She never let me sleep. Then I fell asleep and never woke up"

Something clicked. It made sense now. This girl was a prisoner to her own anger, her own bottled up rage. During life, she was obviously different, born with abilities normal people didn't have. I have similar abilities, but nowhere near to the extent that she had. She could of used them to help everyone, for good. But everyone and anyone who was supposed to love and care for her, didn't They all shunned her instead of finding ways to develop her talents. Feeling betrayal and hatred constantly, those powers took the form of her rage, and she began hurting people. She couldn't stop it because she didn't understand her own powers herself. She couldn't sleep because her rage didn't allow it. She was never lying to anyone, she was just misunderstood. Then her mother murdered her, and the anger lived on in her soul while it placed her in the back of her subconscious. She was a slave to her own emotions, doomed to follow the will to destroy, sewn together shabbily with her desire for a loving mother. It really _wouldn't _stop, no matter how hard she tried. She really _was _sorry, no matter how harsh her actions appeared.

For the first time in my life, I felt no fear towards this girl, but a strong sense of sadness. For the first time, I spoke her name. "Samara"

Her head tilted in my direction slightly. I looked at her solemnly. "They didn't understand, did they?"

Her face grew sad ad she broke eye contact and looked in another direction. She whispered, "No"

For reasons I still don't quite understand, I reached up hesitantly and put my hand on her shoulder. Her eyes shot wide open and her head rushed up in my direction, her mouth parted slightly as she looked at me, just staring wonderingly. I smiled warmly at her. "I do" A pause. "I understand"

Her wide open eyes began to glaze over with tears as she continued staring at me, her body shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes shut slightly as she leapt at me, which caught me off guard, but I quickly regained composure. My own eyes opened wide as I realized she was hugging me. I hesitantly brought my shaking arms to wrap around her, returning the sign of affection. I could hear her sobbing uncontrollably into my shoulder, feeling the warm tears splashing lightly on my neck and running down my shirt.

We sat there for a couple minutes, her sobbing finally beginning to slow down a little bit. Soon enough, silence filled the room once more. She remained clutching my shoulder, trying to will the pain away. She sniffed sadly, her face soaking not from well water, but from tears. I decided to speak up. "We're not so different"

Her eyes widened and she backed up to look at me, puzzled as to what I meant. Looking back at it now, it's kind of ironic that for once, it was her that was stumped by a riddle. She stared and I only smiled, elaborating, "We're not that different because we _are _different. We're not like them. So they hate us. They hate us" I paused, raising an eyebrow. "Because we're different" I shook my head smiling. I to this day believe this was a little bit of my father's dry sense of humor seeping through into me.

She seemed to have read my mind to a degree, judging by her next statement. "I'm sorry" I wouldn't have put it past her, given her other abilities, mind reading probably wasn't something too far beyond her grasp. She didn't appear to be able to dive too deep in, but certainly she retained enough to make a simple prediction on what somebody's going to say next.

I tilted my head at her, and asked, "Sorry for what?"

She looked down, her hair blocking her face once again, but the gritting of her teeth still both visible and audible. "For killing him. For killing your Daddy…"

So I was right. She did indeed feel remorse what she's done, and wants it to stop just as much as her victims do. I looked away as tears began welling up in my own eyes. I never really wanted to admit it, but I did miss Noah. I never understood then why he wasn't around, but then again, I really didn't care back then, either. "It's…alright" I replied reluctantly.

"No, it's not!" her head shot up, tears streaming down her pale face. "I killed Daddy. That's _not _alright. I'll kill Mommy, too, if it doesn't stop. But it won't" her sobbing broke her words up, and I brought her closer to me, gently stroking her back in an attempt to calm her. She accepted the offer and fell into me, never ceasing to cry. She must have been keeping this inside of her for the entirety of the thirty-odd years she's been imprisoned within her own mind, screaming at herself to stop fruitlessly, silent tears falling from her face as she watches victim after hapless victim decay and rot before her wrath.

Eventually, her sobs softened to light whimpers as I held her there, and she began to speak once again. "Mommy can stop it"

My eyes jolted open and I lightly pushed her away enough to be able to make eye contact with her, glaring questioningly into her eyes. Before she could respond, the door to our dream realm flew open, a dark wind rushing over the two of us. She slowly got up, extending a hand out to help me up. I was reluctant, even after all this, but took her offer. She heaved me up so I was standing face to face with her. Her hair flew ravenously in the wind, but never ceased covering her face. "What's going on?"

"She's found me. I can't stay much longer" It was then I noticed her form disappearing, fading into grayscale static once again. "She never sleeps" I finally realized that the anger she possessed could not sleep, therefore, she could not dream. The Samara I had met here was the true her, the human side of her that had been subject to her rage for all these years. She managed to part herself from her rage briefly enough to visit me. Her rage kept her awake, as long as she could escape it, she could rest, therefore, she could dream. Hence how she was standing here right now.

Unfortunately, the separation was temporary. One can only count to ten for so long before it no longer has an effect, after all.

I looked at her, eyes open wide, questions whirring around my head like a set of gears. "How can she stop it, Samara? How can Rachel stop it?" I managed to blurt out to her.

"You understand" she paused, the harsh wind wildly thrashing her dress to and fro. She slowly approached me, but not in an unnatural limp as I was used to, but a normal human step. She lifted her hand and cupped my chin with it, rubbing my cheek lightly with her thumb. The wind shifted directions, and her hair blew the opposite direction, her face becoming partly visible. "Make Mommy understand. Make Mommy know what she has to do" her eyes were filled with pain no longer, but a strong sense of determination, and a tinge of sadness mixed in.

I still didn't quite understand myself. "What _does _she have to do?" I replied.

She didn't answer right away, she simply stared at me, the only movement between the two of us was the shaking of our garments in the wind, the black wind that still beckoned for the return of Samara's other half. She finally replied, "Our Mommy…" She paused, seeming to have a hard time speaking right now. "_Your _Mommy…" she turned away, her hand beginning to fall from my face. "Rachel. She's a good Mommy?"

I didn't know how to respond at first. Sure, Rachel had her downsides and defiantly could of used Noah's help, but she's been doing the best she can as a single parent, I admit. It couldn't be easy for her to watch over me _and _keep food on the table, after all, especially now that Katie was gone. I finally managed to stutter out, "Y-yes"

There was another short pause before she responded. She continued to rub my cheek lightly, as if the motion brought her some sort of emotional safeguard. "She'll know. She just has to do the same thing Mommy did before"

I was struck dumb by this. Something felt like it shot me inside, the sure knowledge that she meant Anna that time and not Rachel finally forcing me to realize what would have to be done. This girl, after having endured so much pain, so much suffering, was practically asking me to kill her all over again. I looked at her disapprovingly, finally gathering the courage to speak up, "What about you?"

Her eyes fell back onto me, her skin color distorting even further into a static-like blue. She looked deep into my eyes, a strong sense of longing hidden behind them, a longing for love, but covering this feeling was the sureness of what would have to take place to bring this rampage to a close. With a tragic voice, she said, "Everyone will suffer. Including me"

She began blazing in and out of sight madly, her grayscale form growing to become less and less human. With a final, whisper of unbearable grief, filled with an understanding she wished she did not hold, she spoke her final words to me. "I'm sorry"

And with that, she disappeared completely from this plain of existence, her ghostly whisper remaining in the air as her misshapen form was pulled out the door. I reached out and called after her, "Samara!" The door shut tight, and an eerie, yet somehow peaceful silence filled the room once more. The wind had ceased, the false sunlight gleaming in from an unknown source. I stood there, my arm still outstretched in a fruitless attempt to save the child from her prison, to salvage her soul from this jail of blood thirst. Eventually, my arm dropped, my eyes remaining open wide as the full realization of what had just happened was finally absorbed into my mind.

I stood for a moment in silence, bowing my head down, a rare rush of emotion flowing through my normally, admittedly mean kind of mood. It was just the way I was. I stood staring at the ground, my fists tightening. Tears began to fall from my eyes, knowing full well what I would have to do, what Rachel would have to do. The silence stung my ears, and the knowledge stung my mind. And finally, I came to the realization that in the end, this was all for the best. This is what she wanted. She was willing to suffer for eternity if it would halt the suffering of others, of her Mommy. Her Daddy. Everybody. She didn't want to kill, but she did. She wanted it to stop, but she couldn't. It wouldn't stop. And she was sorry. And she was willing to suffer the same fate that had brought her to become what she has in order to prove it. She couldn't stop it, but Rachel could. So she showed me things, showed me, possibly inadvertently, not only what had been done to her in the past, but what had yet to be done to her again. Could she have planned this all along? Could she have sought me out secretly behind the curtain of her anger just for the sole purpose of ending the chaos? I might never know, and to tell you the truth, I might never want to know.

I sighed, finally having accepted my task. Rachel would be here soon, I could feel my body moving around. I could see her soiling my body with the blood of the innocent, just as Samara had been forced to endure for all these years. In retrospect, Rachel was right. She did just want to be heard, all she wanted was for someone to go through what she did, to understand. And here I was, fulfilling her promise to the world, suffering as she had, and quite likely to be the last to suffer so. As I looked up at nothing in particular, with the childish hope that the glance toward the ceiling would let her hear me, I told her the few words I'm sure she would have been delighted to hear her entire life. "I…forgive you, Samara" I paused, a warm feeling filling me for some reason. A rare smile glued itself to my face. I took a breath, for once in this ordeal, feeling at peace. I felt like I should say it again, to let her know its alright. To let her know that even in the dark place, there will be a light somewhere. And I could be that light for her.

"I forgive you"

And soon, this dream would fade, and so would the terror and tears she left in her wake. Soon, this dream would end.

The dream of the sleepless.

-O-


End file.
